


Servant Song

by MithrilWren



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Episode 96
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MithrilWren/pseuds/MithrilWren
Summary: Their first night at sea, Caduceus and Fjord finally have a much needed check-in about what happened at the Menagerie, and how Caduceus is doing after all of that.(Badly. The answer is badly.)
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 62
Kudos: 388





	Servant Song

Fjord could have taken the captain’s quarters. Caduceus expected him to, though in hindsight, that might have been a foolish supposition. But here they are, with Fjord laying down linens over his old bunk and tucking the sheets in with martial precision, when Caduceus had been thinking - had been hoping, truthfully - that he would have the night alone.

The ocean rocks beneath the hull, and Caduceus sits cross-legged on his own bunk, drifting with the rhythm and watching Fjord work. The corners are all done up neatly, far neater than anything that’s meant to be lain in ought to be. Could Caduceus be blamed for thinking that the man would want his crusts cut off, all those days ago? Fjord is particular about everything. 

And Caduceus is… frustrated. Unfair as it may be, that’s what he is. 

He’s very, very tired. He wants to sleep, and Fjord is still fussing around, and he has to bite his his tongue lest any passive-aggressive word or complaint slips out. He may not enjoy the ocean, but he’ll be stuck on it for the next few weeks. He’d better start getting used to that discomfort now. It’s no reason to snap at Fjord, who hasn’t done anything wrong, even if every sound he makes is grating on Caduceus’s nerves like a taut wire scraped over stone.

Fjord finally drops down onto his bed, satisfied, and Caduceus fights the urge to cover his ears as the wooden frame creaks with his weight. Everything is too loud. Everything is too  _ much, _ tonight. He’s feeling well past frayed. Speaking with your family for the first time in a decade will do that to a person, he’s finding out.

Fjord finally looks up at Caduceus, biting his lip before speaking. “...You mind if I put out the light?” The words are apologetic - like he had another question in mind, but lost his nerve.

“Sure.”

Fjord hops off the bed, and there - the sheets are already wrinkled. What was the point in all that? Caduceus huffs, then lays down and pulls the covers up over his chest.

The torch by the door snuffs out, leaving only a pair of thin candlesticks on the twin dressers and the light from beneath the door to illuminate their little shared room. Fjord walks back to his bed, confident where Caduceus would have stumbled. He’s the only one in the party now who can’t see in the dark. He thinks that most of them forget that, these days - that he can’t see the way they can.

“Night, Caduceus.” Fjord’s soft murmur rumbles over him, and he curls up as comfortably as he can on a bed made for someone a head shorter, facing the wall. Briny speckled wood stares back, half-rotted and almost slick in the dim candlelight. Or maybe that’s his mind playing tricks on him, reminding him of what lies beneath the thin protection of the hull. 

The world rocks, rocks, rocks-

Clarabelle’s face drifts from the darkness. He hears her high, excited laugh in the break between swells.

She was so happy to see him. 

He was so happy to see her. 

To see all of them.

He was so happy.

He was.

He  _ is. _

Caduceus tightens his hand into the blankets, body twitching as the ocean rocks, and the bed rocks, and the world moves around him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He  _ is  _ happy. His family is safe, and the grove will soon be saved as well, and that’s all that ever mattered. And this? This melancholy? It will pass. Tomorrow there’ll be new things that need his attention, and a fresh path forward: something to distract himself from the movement, and the noise, and all the things that are too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too  _ unceasing.  _ There’s still so much left to accomplish. 

What’s the point of feeling like this? How does it help him? What good does it do?

Caduceus presses his face into the mattress, willing the darkness to come already. Everything will be easier tomorrow. He’ll feel less heartsick, and more steady, like he needs to be. Like he always needs to be.

It’s just been a long day. It’s just been-

“Caduceus?” Fjord’s whisper is entirely too close and Caduceus flinches, but manages not to flail. He rolls over to find Fjord hunched over his bed, one hand braced tentatively on the edge of the mattress. “Are you asleep?” 

Caduceus sits up, drawing the blankets up with him. Fjord lowers himself onto the side of the bed, perched in an awkward way that makes it clear he’s trying not to take up too much space. It’s an uncomfortable pose, and Caduceus scoots over a little, until they have room to fit side by side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but his voice is too rough for the question, not filled with enough easy assurance. Habit sends his eyes flicking over Fjord’s body in search of traces of seawater. If this is another nightmare, he’s not sure he has the energy to be the comforter tonight. 

“Nothing.” Fjord’s response is quick - too quick, and Caduceus’s eyes narrow. “I just… we haven’t gotten a chance to talk for a while. A lot’s happened in the last few days.” Caduceus nearly snaps that they would have had the chance, if he and the others hadn’t been so dead set on spending the previous night desecrating a sacred site. But when Fjord said he wasn’t involved in the acts themselves, he did believe him, and he has to be fair. Fjord’s done a lot for him; Caduceus owes him that much.

“What do you want to talk about?” Jester’s religious revelations, almost losing Beau in the fight with the Gorgon, the peace treaty they’re sailing towards. There are lots of things Fjord might want to talk through, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to pretend to be excited about any of it, but can’t quite make himself tell Fjord to go away either. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

Caduceus sighs, staring off towards the wall over Fjord’s bed. How does he answer that, when he doesn’t know himself? He knows what he  _ should  _ be feeling. He thinks he knows what Fjord needs to hear. 

“Good, I think. Very relieved that we all made it out in one piece.” And that must be what he feels, because he said it. And if he doesn’t feel particularly joyful, he will by tomorrow, once he’s rested a little more. And if he doesn’t by then…

Well. It was never his job to be happy. His job was to be patient, and to listen to the Mother, and to endure whatever trials might come, until the others came back. He didn’t spend these past ten years locked in a stone prison. He lived freely, and that’s a close enough thing to happiness. It’s good enough for the bees, and the beasts, and the whispering elms. It should have been enough for him.

(And besides, how can he say to Fjord, who never had parents to come home to, that the reunion hurt more than the leaving?)

“I’m sure the garden will be beautiful by the time I return. I’m excited to see what my family makes of it.” He manages a little sad smile, and expects that to be the end of the conversation, but Fjord is still there when he looks back to him. His eyes are troubled, flickering yellow in the candlelight, and Caduceus finds he can’t hold his gaze for long.

“They seemed like good people. It must have been nice to finally see them again,” Fjord says softly. Caduceus nods, swallowing hard.  _ Nice.  _ That’s how it was supposed to feel. He’s thankful to Fjord, in that moment, for reminding him of the right words, the proper ones.

“Very nice,” he says. “I missed them, more than I realized.” He startles when Fjord reaches out and touches the back of his hand, blunt nails grazing the soft fur over his knuckles.

“Sorry,” Fjord says, drawing his hand back, and he looks down at his own hands, still folded in his lap. They’re shaking, he realizes. Caduceus gives a little chuckle, almost as surprised as Fjord at the sight.

“Don’t worry about that. Just tired. How are  _ you  _ doing, Fjord? It must feel strange, being back on the sea, and on this ship. I know being the captain isn’t a role you relish.”

Fjord frowns, and answers slowly. “I’m fine, Caduceus. But… are you?” Caduceus opens his mouth, and nothing comes out, for far too long. “You’ve been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours.”

“Have I?” Caduceus laughs again, and uses the interruption to search for the next question he can ask, the next avenue he can take that will lead Fjord off this one. He’s desperate to divert the conversation before they reach whatever precipice they’re teetering towards. The swooping in his stomach tells him they’re close to one, even if he can’t see the drop.

“I mean, yes. What we saw in that place… it was incredibly disturbing, even to me, and it wasn’t my family who was petrified.”

_ Corrin’s broken body scattered amongst the sand. His father’s form frozen, with one arm raised. Clarabelle, she’s never looked that terrified, he didn’t realize she even could- _

“But aren’t they your family too?” Caduceus asks.  _ His brother, Caduceus sometimes wanted to hurt him when they were younger, but he never wanted anything like this.  _ “You’re a Stone now, after all,”  _ Calliope, with all her strength, even she couldn’t protect them  _ and he smiles, mouth moving into a curve almost without his noticing. Fjord reaches out and takes his hand more forcefully this time: not hesitant, and not letting go. 

_ “Caduceus,”  _ Fjord says, and Caduceus watches something wet drip onto the back of his green knuckles, the ones that cover his. Is the roof of the cabin leaking? He opens his mouth to speak again, and tastes salty water on his lips, and more dripping onto his tongue. 

Oh. He’s crying. That’s… odd.

He raises the hand that Fjord isn’t holding and wipes at his eyes, surprised to find that more tears are leaking out even as he swipes the first batch away. 

Does anyone ever cry, if there’s nobody there to watch? He’s always wondered. He was usually the one who did the watching, and the comforting as well, for all those who came to the Grove to lay their loved ones to rest. 

But why should he cry, if there’s no one to mourn? If no one actually died, in the end?

“I’m fine,” he insists, his voice roughening with each word. “Let’s talk about you, Fjord.” 

“You’re not fine,” Fjord says, undistracted and undeterred. “Caduceus,  _ talk to me.” _

“What’s there to talk about?” More heat slips out from the corner of his eyes, and brushing the tears away does nothing to stop more from falling, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening to his body - why it’s doing this, when he isn’t even upset. “My family is safe. I did what I set out to do. You know the rest.”

“But I  _ don’t,”  _ Fjord says, tightening his grip on Caduceus’s hand and looking at him so unhappily, and Caduceus would do anything to make this conversation end. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head. Did… did you get enough time with your parents, before they left?” He doesn’t mention the tears. For that, Caduceus is eternally grateful.

“Yes, of course. I’m glad that I got a chance to see them. I’m very lucky,”  _ that they wanted to see me, after what I did,  _ “that they were alive, all of them. I’m very grateful to you, and the others. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you all for what you did for my family.”

Far from being soothed, Fjord’s face grows more stormy. Caduceus suspects he’ll be losing circulation in his fingers soon, if Fjord’s keep up their vice grip. “You don’t have to  _ repay  _ us.”

“Don’t I?”  _ I still have so much to make up for, after all.  _ “I’m sure I’ll find a way. We still have a long road ahead of us.”

“Caduceus, we  _ wanted _ to help you. Did we make Nott repay us, for rescuing Yeza? Or Beau, for standing up for her when we met her shithole father? Or me, when you gave me that sword, or when you helped me find the Wildmother? Was I supposed to pay you back for that?” Caduceus shakes his head. Of course not. He’d never have put that on his shoulders. “Then why would it be different for you?”

_ Because you  _ deserved _ to be saved. And I- _

“It’s fine, Fjord. Let’s-”

“It’s clearly not. Why do you keep saying that?” 

“Because I  _ need it to be.” _ The treacherous nugget of honesty slips out in his frustration, and Fjord latches on. 

“Why? Why does it need to be fine?”

He doesn’t know the answer, and then he does. It hits him like a punch to the gut, a physical ache of realization. “Because if it isn’t now, then when will it be?”  _ I did everything I was meant to do, everything I was  _ led _ to do, and I’m still alone.  _ He sucks in a breath, and that breath turns into two, then turns into a gasping, frantic pattern of inhales and exhales. “Then I’m always going to feel this way.”

“What way?” Fjord leans in closer, till his forehead brushes the loose waves of hair across Caduceus’s forehead, not letting him pull away, as much as his body wants him to press his back into the wall, or crawl beneath the bed, or be anywhere but here.

_ “Afraid.” _

Is that how he feels? It seems true, when he says it, but it doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. 

“What are you afraid of, Caduceus?” 

_ Everything.  _ The sea, the future, his parents’ love. Fjord’s hand on his, still holding him close, keeping him from running. He wants to shove Fjord away, but then he’ll be even more alone, and Caduceus is afraid of that too. But if he lets him in, then who will carry the weight? Is Fjord strong enough to hold them both?

Is he?

“I don’t know if I made the right choices. Maybe I chose the wrong path. I don’t know who can tell me the difference.”  _ I don’t know who can forgive me, if I did. _

Fjord’s other hand moves to rest on his chest, rough calluses catching against the silk that covers the ribs beneath. “Breathe,” he instructs, and Caduceus tries. He can’t make it slow down, at first, but Fjord’s hand runs gentle circles across his heart, moving in time with the rock of the ship. Eventually, air starts finding its way into his lungs again. 

“You told me that I should start looking for my own answers. Well, I’m going to try.” Fjord’s hand never stills as he speaks. “I don’t know if you’re on the ‘right’ path, Caduceus, because I don’t think there is one. I think the world’s more complicated than that. But I know that we all found each other for a reason. I know that your family is alive, because of what you did. And I know you set me on a far better path than the one I was walking, so if that counts for anything... I’ll never regret that I met you, not for a single day. I hope… I hope you feel the same way. And that you’re not just staying because you feel like you have to.” A twinge of uncertainty twists behind Fjord’s eyes, and his hand starts to pull away. Caduceus catches the hand before it can, holding it against his chest.

“I do,” Caduceus says, and finds that he means it. Even if he was supposed to live alone for the rest of his days, even if he abandoned that duty, he doesn’t regret meeting the Nein, or Fjord. He can’t bring himself to pretend anything else. “I’m glad to be here, with you.”

“Then this path can’t be wrong.” Caduceus smiles, looking down. That answer is more straightforward than he can accept. There are still some things that are ordained, that he can’t ignore in favour of his own feelings. But it’s a very  _ Fjord  _ sort of solution, and that’s endearing in its own way, and… it’s something to think on, at least.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Fjord’s posture relaxes, bit by bit. “I think I needed to hear that.” His head feels impossibly heavy, and he leans forward, dropping his forehead onto Fjord’s shoulder. A moment later, the hand that was on his chest moves to cradle the back of his head, not stroking his neck but just resting there, a comforting, steadying weight amidst the rocking of the ship.

“Anytime,” Fjord murmurs into a mouthful of hair. “And I mean that. Anytime you need me, Caduceus, I’m here.” 

He knows from Fjord’s twitching after a minute or so that the position isn’t comfortable for him, nor is it particularly comfortable for Caduceus either - his back isn’t meant to bend quite that far. He reluctantly sits back up, and Fjord grins at him as he straightens. “Bedtime?”

“I think so.” Fjord pulls away, standing, but he lingers a moment longer before returning to his own bunk, just watching Caduceus, like he has something else to say. But whatever it is, he loses his nerve again, and they both retreat to their separate blankets once more. 

In Fjord’s absence, the gnawing guilt starts to creep back in, and Caduceus’s heart rapidly begins to sink as he leans over to blow out the candles. But in the faint light before the last flame flickers and fades, he thinks he catches a glint of blue waves on the ceiling, reflected from the space between Fjord’s hands. 

He recognizes the hue. It’s the emblem he gave to Fjord: still cherished, even weeks after the fact.

_ Was I supposed to pay you back? _

Not for something freely given. Not for something earnestly shared. 

Maybe that’s what makes the difference, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this ended up being almost the inverse of the final scene of [the morning calls your name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390178), but hey, if you can't steal from yourself, who can you steal from? :)
> 
> Come find me at [mithrilwren](https://mithrilwren.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Servant Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719180) by [GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfLaundryBaskets/pseuds/GoLBPodfics)




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